


The sky and some stones

by nelyonelyo



Category: Sunset Empire
Genre: M/M, a lil profanity, some angsty gays tbh, this is honestly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelyonelyo/pseuds/nelyonelyo





	The sky and some stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FossilizedGrablin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FossilizedGrablin/gifts).



The fire was crackling still. A few nubs of flame, some embers glowing like hot sugar, enough heat to shatter the bitterness of the winter air, but not quite enough to ward it off completely.

Dharri was seated next to the fire, Martyn cuddled tightly in his lap, with Dharri’s wool military overcoat wrapped around both of them.

Maevern sat across from them, across the fire, sitting upright, stiffly, as if he were at a formal meeting. Occasionally, he would untense his posture or slip a smile during conversation, but would snap back and correct himself as if each casual act was a sin.

“You know,” Dharri said, “you can calm down a little. There’s no one here. It’s just us. All the others have retired to their tents already.”

Maevern scoffed under his breath.

“Are you cold?” Martyn asked softly. “It really is cold outside tonight.”

“Martyn, I’m a general who’s regularly out at night patrolling or fighting. You know this. The cold means nothing to me. I’m used to this. I’m _from_ the north. I’m completely fine, I assure you.”

“You just look so cold…” Martyn began.

“I’m not cold,” Maevern snapped back at him. Perhaps he wasn’t cold. But his eyes were.

Martyn was not so easily deterred. He climbed out of Dharri’s arms and quickly walked to the other side of the dying fire. He was dressed in a thin pale-blue nightrobe, nothing good for being out in this weather, and kneeled by Maevern. He took his hand. “You _are_ cold,” he insisted. “Your hands are freezing.”

Maevern snatched his hand away from Martyn, almost violently. “I’m _not_ cold! Stop it! Go back to burrowing in Dharri’s clothes, why don’t you?”

“He’s…” Dharri began to defend himself, “he’s just out here in his bedclothes, he left his tent to come join us…he’s not dressed for the cold…I was trying to keep him warm!” He looked at Maevern. “That’s all it is. He’s very small, very thin. He gets cold easily.” Dharri, uncomfortable with the silence of a lacked response, decided to continue on rambling to fill it. “Would you rather he go back inside? I thought you enjoyed his company.”

“I know you sure enjoy his company,” Maevern responded with his usual snark.

“What _is it_ with you, today? What’s your problem?” Dharri asked him, his tone rising in aggressiveness.

“He’s cold!” Martyn insisted brightly. Martyn sat next to him and leaned against him. Though he wore the same military-provided long wool coat as Dharri, Maevern’s was cold on the exterior from the wind, and didn’t provide the same warmth. “Oh, come, Maev, please! We can all sit together and share body heat. You know,” he said, widening his eyes and tilting his head upwards as if to look professional, “that’s what animals such as penguins do. I read that. We can do it too. We all emit heat-energy, and it all goes to waste, drifting off in this…this _wind_. The fire simply isn’t enough. We need each other. Come! Come on!” He stood up, and tugged Maevern’s hand, urging him, too, to stand.

Begrudgingly, Maevern stood, his tall figure towering over Martyn, and allowed himself to be led over to Dharri. He sat a few feet away from him, and Martyn sat between them.

“ _Closer!_ ” Martyn demanded, tugging on Maevern’s coat, until the three were close enough to all be in contact, Martyn sitting between Dharri and Maevern. “See? This will be better. Plus, we can hear each other easier, since we’re closer together.”

“Thank you, Martyn,” Maevern said flatly, in a tone that made it indistinguishable whether he was speaking in sarcasm or sincerity. “This was a great idea.”

Martyn, unable to detect sarcasm, beamed.

“I don’t know why you’re being so cranky tonight, Maev. What’s the issue?” Dharri demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know! Who knows, Dharri! Why on earth would I be a little peeved right now! It’s not like there’s a war going on or anything!”

“Oh, shut up, there’s always a war going on. Are you jealous? Is that is? Are you jealous seeing Martyn and I sit together?”

“No!”

“Then what’s the issue!”

“I think he’s just cold!” Martyn suggested. “I also hate being cold.”

“Stop insisting I’m cold!” Maevern snapped back at Martyn. “I told you, so many times, that I enjoy the cold! The cold is fine! Shut up! Shut up!”

Martyn looked at him in shock and his wide eyes shifted from a look of joviality to fear. He shrunk back from Maevern slightly.

“Fuck,” Maevern grumbled. “Fuck, Martyn. Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I didn’t mean that.”

Martyn shook his head.

“No,” Maevern continued, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re just trying to help. This doesn’t concern you. I…” Maevern extended his leg against the loose dirt on the ground, kicking it. “I’m honestly not cold.”

Martyn stood up again, and leaned over to kiss Maevern on the forehead, one of the few valaei familiar greetings, something he learned to do from his mother. “Something troubles you. I can tell that. It’s okay, it really is, it’s okay. You’re family to me. This does concern me. I don’t like to see you upset.”

“This is how he usually is,” Dharri added passively, dismissively.

“I’m not upset!” Maevern said again, almost shouting, but with a sharpness in his voice an inch away from cracking.

Martyn knelt by him and hugged him, the best he could. Maevern was a large man, in stature that is, and made even larger by the thickness of his wool coat. Martyn’s arms could barely wrap around him.

“Fuck,” Maevern whispered softly, and returned the embrace, a little too strongly perhaps.

“You’re crushing me!” Martyn giggled.

“No, I’m warming you! You’re _cold_ ,” Maevern said with a smile audible in his voice though not on his face, “aren’t you?”

“Yeah, a little,” Martyn laughed, and sat down again on Dharri’s lap. “Sorry, the ground is really cold, it’s better here. Scoot over, though, Maev! So I can lean against you, too. Body heat, remember? It’s science.”

“Well if it’s science!” Maevern said, rolling his eyes.

Dharri, finally understanding what Martyn was trying to do, extended one of his arms to lay it across Maevern’s shoulders, pulling him a little closer. “Martyn’s right. You are family. He’s also right that we’re penguins or whatever and it’s fucking cold out here and this fire is shit.”

Maevern looked Dharri in the eyes as if he was going to speak, as if he needed to speak, as if he needed to cry, but remained silent. He nodded. “I could add more wood to the fire.”

“No need,” Dharri insisted, “we’ll all be heading to sleep soon anyways.”

“Not yet though,” Martyn added.

“Well, why does it matter to you if we sleep now or later? Once you go back to the tent, you’ll just be cuddling there with Dharri anyways. Why does it matter if you do so here, or there? Either, uh, either way, you get someone to hold you and keep you warm, no matter what you are. You…you get…you…” Maevern found himself uncharacteristically stumbling upon his words.

“Well! For one, it’s better out here right now, because I get to talk to Dharri, but I get to talk to my dear friend Maevern!” Martyn said with a cocky grin. “That’s you, you know. I _do_ care about you. In case you keep forgetting.”

“I don’t keep forgetting!”

“Two, both the moons are out tonight, and I like seeing them.”

“The moons come out nearly every night,” Maevern scoffed.

“They’re special, though, for me! I didn’t see them for those seven years while I was in the tavern! They’re old friends I’ve only recently be re-acquainted with!”

“They’re not _that_ special. They’re good for light, and for knowing tide cycles, that’s about all,” Maevern said.

“But they’re pretty!” Martyn objected.

“You know,” began Dharri, “lunar cycles are heavily involved in prophesy and religion. Don’t dismiss them too easily!”

“Since when has astrological luck done anything for me? Really, Dharri, what are we? Mystics? Witches? We’re soldiers. What happens on the battlefield happens because of how sharp my blade is and how strong my arm is, not how high the moons are.”

Martyn nodded. “My mother said not to worry about them.”

“Your mother?” Dharri exclaimed in shock. “Zora….” He paused, baffled. “Zora told you not to worry yourself with astronomy?”

“Yeah. Never read any books on them.”

“You know she’s one of the empire’s chief astronomers, right, and deals with prophesy involving astrological positions on the regular? This is a very, very important thing to her.”

“Not important,” Maevern said under his breath.

“It is _too_ important!” Dharri insisted. “That’s how all that Raven bullshit came around. That shi-prophesy, about some chosen twins being born under, ah, hmm.” Dharri tapped his chin and looked around blankly, trying to remember. “Born under noon, on the summer solstice or something, with both moons full in the sky. Or was it both moons new in the sky? Or, fuck, I don’t know this. Maybe it was both crescent, bordering the sun like cupped hands? Was that it? The cup moon thing?” He looked at Maevern, his eyes pleading for informational backup.

“It’s bullshit. You know my stance on that. It’s bullshit. Raven’s mother made all that shit up in order to create some kind of god-child for them to cult-worship. None of it matters at all. It’s crazy-talk. Wasn’t Martyn born on the summer solstice as well?”

“I was!” Martyn confirmed.

“See?” Maevern continued. “It’s bullshit. I was born on some fancy stupid star-date thing too. The stars rotated so the wine-moon covered the warrior’s-skull constellation, and the ale-moon was in waning crescent underneath the whatever-the-fuck constellation. Do you think this means anything? Huh? Those astrology people think wine-moon covering warrior, fuck this is so dumb to say outloud…”

“No, continue,” Dharri urged him, “I want to hear this.”

“Of course _you_ want to hear this! You took fucking astronomy classes back at your little royal school!”

“Yeah, but I’ve forgotten all of it, so that doesn’t matter, I just like seeing how mad you are about stars.”

Maevern rolled his eyes. “I hate you,” he smiled. “Fine. It’s supposed to mean I’d be born soft, or something, or like, the wine moon, it represents sin right?”

“No, no, the _ale_ moon represents sin. You’ve got it all backwards. The ale moon represents sin and wealth, due to it’s silver-gold color, you see. So, sin, wealth, devious means, temptation, lust, stuff like that. The _wine_ moon, that’s the red, one you know-“

“Of fucking course I know that the wine moon is the red one! Who doesn’t know the names of the goddamn moons!”

“Well it seems like you don’t know much about astronomy!” Dharri laughed.

“And you _do_?”

“I took classes!” Dharri countered, offended to a degree.

“And you said you forgot all of it!”

“I didn’t forget what our fucking moons are called!”

“Well, do you know what the red one _represents_?”

“No,” admitted Maevern, swiftly.

“They represent things?” Martyn asked with his usual sincerity. “I just think they’re pretty. It reminds me of rust, you know. Very pretty. It’s my favorite of the two.”

Dharri sighed. “You’re _Zora_ ’s kid and she never even taught you the basis of the astronomy aspects of our religion. Incredible. I can’t believe it. Rust, huh? I always thought it looked more like…you know. Wine.”

“No, no!” Martyn insisted. “Not wine. It’s more of a rusty orange-red, like rust! Wine is a dark, clear, almost purple-red. You run a vineyard! You know what wine looks like!”

“Well it’s called the wine moon and I didn’t choose the names so I guess it looks like wine! That’s all there is! _Anyways_ , since _none of you_ apparently know the damn basics of things, the wine moon represents regality, virtue, justice, and earned rewards. I guess it’s also wealth but, wealth in good-ethics, you know? Maybe not material wealth. I don’t remember. I think the ale-moon is more about material wealth, and the wine-moon is more about, I don’t know, deep satisfaction or something. It’s supposed to be the better one. I don’t know!” Dharri sighed dramatically again.

“It seems you _do_ know a lot, so drop that humility shit. So, what? I’m born under the ale moon covering the warrior-constellation? That means I’m evil or something, means I’ll take, what, a “material wealth” bribe and it’ll block out my warrior status? It’s fucking bullshit. My path is not determined by how long my mother waited to birth me. If she waited an hour or two more or something, the moon would be over a different set of stars, and all these dumb astronomers would be claiming something else. What were you born under, huh? Let me guess, oh, the wine moon, the good special boy one, destined for greatness, hmm?”

“Dammit Maev, why are you getting so mad over this? I thought you said you didn’t give a shit about astronomy. And look at me!” Dharri said, his voice getting defensive, almost to a shout, “yeah, maybe the wine moon had to do with my birth and I was supposed to be some kind of virtue-child, but do you really think that turned out right? Destined for greatness? I’m practically disowned by the Eltorriens and my body sucks and everything _sucks_ right now for me-as-a-royal. You’re not supposed to take astrology literally, it’s more nuanced than that!”

“I wonder what moons I was born under.” Martyn pondered.

“Do you not know?” Dharri asked him.

“No. I was young when I left my original parents, if they told me, I’ve forgotten it.”

“If you know what time you were born, we can look it up in a chart?”

“I don’t know what time I was born. Just the date.”

“Well, that doesn’t do us much good.”

“You were probably born under the, oh, the wine-moon under the angel star or some shit like that meaning you’re perfect and special, hmm? Or maybe ale-moon under the bastard star. See? None of this matter at all. Whatever was happening in the sky when you were born, it doesn’t matter!” Maevern insisted.

“There’s no such thing as an angel-star or a bastard-star, _Maevern_ ,” Dharri said. “You know that.”

“I don’t! I’m sorry! I didn’t take stupid astronomy classes in rich-boy school like you and learned the names of all the stars! I learned, you know, _useful_ things like troop positions and organization. I’d rather deal with the predictability of people than the whims of the stars.”

“Don’t frame me as some kind of star-expert either, I…” Dharri stopped again to think of a rebuttal. “It’s important to know! The moons influence good will and repercussions!”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Maevern, we’ve been going off this system for thousands of years!”

“Yeah and look how great the “system” has turned out, huh?” Maevern said.

“I just think they’re pretty,” Martyn butted in again, unsure what else to say. “When the red moon…the, you called it the wine-moon? When the wine moon’s in the sky, I like how it gives things a slight red tint. When there’s both moons and the night sky is super bright I think it’s really fun to see how the shadows work there. It’s beautiful.”

“Shi magic has a lot to do with astronomy, Martyn, you really _should_ study it a little,” Dharri urged him.

“If it’s so important, why didn’t my mom tell me any of it?” he asked.

“I honestly have no clue. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand that woman. She knows all about demons, religion, astronomy…and didn’t think any of that was relevant for you. You. Being trained to be a weaver. I don’t get it.” A thought dawned upon Dharri. Zora wasn’t dumb. She never overlooked anything. She taught Martyn a great deal of things, to leave out something as simple as elementary astrology would be an impossible oversight. It would have been intentional. Why did she purposefully hide knowledge of the stars and the moons from him? Shi use it for prophesies and for arranging large spells. Then again, Martyn never did any large spells like soul binding. Only minor healing things. Did she want to limit him in this? Keep him weaker? His thought process verged darkly, wondering why she would hide this from him, what intents she had for the extent of his skills, and he quickly decided to change the subject and rid the thought from his mind.

“Oh! I supposed I should explain my rings to you, then, Martyn!” Dharri said, quickly shifting his voice from worried to perky with the talent of a mediocre thespian. He extended his hand like a lady displaying a freshly done set of painted-nails. “Look!”

“You’re wearing five rings,” Marty noted attentively.

Maevern, tired of this conversation, huffed again to express disapproval, but this was muffled by swift crackle of the fire.

“Well, yes, I’m wearing five rings…”

Martyn pointed to the one on right hand thumb, gold, with an imprint of interlocking, overlapping circles on it, with a small star in the center. “That’s your family crest.”

“Yeah, I stamp wax documents with it…”

Martyn, eager to point out more rings, held Dharri’s cold hand in his own, and touched the on on his index finger, “explain that one.”

“Well, that one’s red stone, for the wine moon. I wear it when the wine moon is not present in the sky, as a way of channeling its energy, even when it isn’t present. To wear it when the wine moon is in the sky would be considered boastful.”

“What if you sleep in too long with your rings on and the moon rises and you’re still wearing it?”

Maevern, who never really withdrew himself from the conversation as much as he tried to give the impression of, joined back in, “Dharri is _perfectly fine_ with being boastful.”

“How _accurate_ of an assessment, Maevern. Thank you _so much_ for that addition. But yes, Martyn, I personally wear it almost all the time, ha. Some religious folks get annoyed by that though.” He slid the ring off his finger and passed it to Martyn, who promptly put it on. It was far too large for him, but he delighted seeing how it looked.

“Anyways,” Dharri continued, “on my middle finger, that’s where I wear the sun one. I have a lot of sun ones. Quartz, bismuth, diamond…you know, the sun has a lot of different appearances. The clear light it casts reminds me of quartz, the many-colored-sunsets remind me of bismuth, sometimes it’s a iridescent opal to me. Most people don’t wear sun rings unless they’re nobles or priests.”

“But they’re so pretty!”

“Yes, yes, and that’s why I’m letting you wear it.” Dharri handed that ring, too, to Martyn. “Now, on the finger to the other side of the middle one, I wear my ale-moon ring. The ale moon isn’t _always_ bad. It’s associated with temptation and sin, sure, but it’s also associated with simple, trivial joys. Life doesn’t always have to be about deep spiritual satisfaction. I like winning things and I like expensive foods and parties, so, the ale-ring it is! Unlike the wine ring, you’re supposed to wear this one _while_ the ale moon is in the sky, as a sign of, I don’t know, solidarity or something with it. To say that you embrace it and aren’t scared of it. Some religious people like this, some of the more conservative sort say we should have _nothing_ to do with the ale moon.” Dharri laughed. “Teens, young people…they like to wear ale-moon jewelry, amber or citrine whatever, since it’s so associated with parties. I’ll admit I’m a big fan of it. Sometimes bars have portraits of it hanging around.”

Martyn, unsure of how he felt about that moon, still never less put on the ring. He looked at his hand with three large rings clinking on it, all doubtlessly worth exorbitant amounts of money. “And this is for…religion?”

“Religion, superstition, science, magic, same thing! Really it’s for fashion sometimes.” Dharri happily told him. “Your hands are so small,” he commented, “what ring size are you?”

“Four!”

“You’re a size four?”

“Shi have very thin fingers!” Martyn protested.

“And you’re a very small shi!” Dharri added.

“Maybe so! Why does it matter what size ring I am?”

“So I can buy you some, silly. I never see you wear any.”

“Well, maybe that’s because I spend most of my day working with my hands and doing surgeries on dying soldiers? And I can’t wear rings for that?” Martyn suggested to Dharri.

“Damn. You’re right. Hmm.”

Martyn, able to tell Dharri was slightly disappointed, offered anyways. “I do like rings, though. I’d wear one, if you got me one, maybe to sleep in or wear at times like these, when my hands aren’t busy with magic-weaving or medical tools.”

“Oh, I fully intend to get you a ring. Don’t worry. Any preference?”

“Blue!” Martyn blurted out, as if he had thought of the question for a while. “I want a really bright blue one, just like your eyes are, so when you’re sleeping and I can’t see your eyes I can still see the ring!” he spoke in a franticly excited pace. “That’s the color I want!”

Dharri looked at him in shock for a moment. He hadn’t prepared for such an answer.

Maevern allowed himself to chuckle. “Fuck,” he said, pausing to exhale another small laugh, “of course you’d say that.”

“What do you mean of course! It’s a reasonable answer!”

“You put a lot of thought into that didn’t you, Martyn?” Maevern asked, half in sincerity, half in amusement.

“Well, my mind is never idle.” Martyn said.

“Yes, I can see exactly what sort of thoughts it’s filled with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Why don’t you go ahead and ask Dharri about his 5th ring, hmm?”

“Oh! Alright.” Martyn grabbed Dharri’s left hand, where the last ring was located. It was a plain black band of matte texture.

“Hmm?” Dharri snapped his mind back into the conversation, away from the shock of contemplating Martyn’s ring request. “Oh. That one.” Dharri frowned. “See, the right hand is meant for political and religious rings and meanings. The left hand is for decoration and personal stuff. For example, if I was engaged, I’d wear a ring on my left index finger. If I was married, I’d wear a ring on middle finger.”

“But you’re not married.”

“No, no, I’m very much not married. That’s why it’s black. My father gave it to me. It marks that I’m unfit for marriage, void. If you saw someone wearing a wedding band, you’d assume they’re not single, and not eligible to flirt with, yes? Same concept applies here. I’m wearing a ring on the wedding finger, marking that I’m not eligible to flirt with, but its not a nice decorative one, it marks that yeah, I’m not eligible, but I’m not married either. I’m off the market. Not for sale, ha!” Dharri forced a smile, but unfortunately was not able to make it an effectively convincing one.

“Oh.” Martyn said, disappointed but for a reason he couldn’t quite understand himself. “I thought you always wanted to marry. You told me how you want to marry some lovely valaei lady someday, have a bunch of kids, and move off to your vineyard.”

“Well, no, that’s not right at all. I never specified it had to be an valaei lady.”

“But you still wish to be married! Then why wear that ring? Is it a temporary thing? Perhaps saying that you’re not in the mood to date at the moment, because of war and all that? I understand now.”

“No, sweet Martyn, I’m afraid you don’t understand. It’s…a little more complicated than that. I’d love to date, I’d love to marry, maybe. But I can’t. Perhaps I don’t want to? I don’t want to, yeah, not really. I don’t have a great track record with relationships. We’ve been over this.”

“Really!” Maevern said, with sarcasm tangible enough that even Martyn could detect it. “You? Having controversial and disastrous relationships? Impossible! Who would have guessed!”

Dharri looked at Maevern with a face of empty sadness, and Maevern immediately in turn dropped his own tone of mockery and looked away, embarrassed.

“Maevern is right. My relationships are disastrous. My recent engagement, well not that recent, was almost a year ago, was broken off, and that was really a last-ditch attempt at settling me down as a suitable husband. My brother is married with an heir, my father doesn’t _need_ me as much to carry on his line. Time and time again I’ve failed the Eltorrien line. I’ve got, I’ve got, well, you know what I’ve got. R…” Dharri inhaled sharply, not wanting to talk about Raven, but feeling it necessary to speak on the subject. “Raven did a lot. Last straw really. I can’t, I can’t fucking, I just.” Dharri stopped talking. He lifted Martyn’s hand off his own, and started retrieving his rings, putting them back on his own fingers. He resumed his speech, in a very monotone voice. “I’m not going to date or marry and my father thinks this is best for the family, and it’s the most practical answer really, and I agree with him.”

“You could take it off and-“ Martyn began to suggest.

“I’m not going to fucking take it off! Didn’t I just explain that to you? Didn’t I just tell you? Everyone I date gets hurt, and I’m not going to do that to someone, and I’m not going to do any of that shit, and my soul is fucking _ruined_ and my mind doesn’t even _work_ anymore, it doesn’t _work_ Martyn, I, none of me works anymore! None of me! I have no clue what this is doing to me and what it’s going to do to me and what I’m going to deteriorate into and I hate it and I hate it and-“

Martyn leaned over to touch Dharri’s face, and action that usually comforted him.

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Dharri shouted, swatting Martyn’s hand away, standing up. “Don’t you see? You don’t, oh my god, you don’t get it at all!”

Martyn, having almost never seen that side of Dharri, grew scared, but slowly stood up as well.

Tears grew in Dharri’s eyes, but he refused to let them collect and drip down his cheeks. “I can’t! I can’t! It’s not going to happen and there’s not, fuck, oh my god,” Dharri turned away and kicked the edge of the fire, causing a chunk of ash and orange-lit particles to fly into the air with another crackle. He then turned around, looking directly into Martyn’s face.

“You’re a size 4 ring,” Dharri said, softly, quietly this time.

Martyn nodded, worried.

Dharri shook his head, not to Martyn but to himself, and looked up at the sky above him. The sky was cloudy and not a single star was visible. The traces of the wine moon, a sliver of it, shone its reddish light through the clouds.

“And turquoise is the color you wanted. They’ve got a really, really bright blue turquoise sold not too far west of Deyavi, since it’s found in the desert and all that…”

He crouched slightly, so he could be at eye level with Martyn. “It’s hard to tell at night, especially under this odd lighting, but your eyes, you know, I’ve always loved them too. Green eyes are so rare. I don’t even care what color they are; I just love looking in them. I told you that, right?.” Dharri’s voice grew calmer as he spoke. “Jade, emerald…” his voice rose from a post-storm calmness, rising into his usual joy. “Malachite, tourmaline, oh, even, peridot. So many stones that could match them. You want a ring that reminds you of my eyes, well, perhaps that idea isn’t too strange. I should get one, perhaps.”

Martyn nodded again, excitedly. “We can match!”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that.”

Martyn reached out and hugged Dharri, wordlessly. Dharri returned the hug, holding onto Martyn dearly.

Maevern, still seated by the fire, smiled.

The fire, over the course of time, had dimmed out almost entirely, but he really didn’t feel too cold at all.


End file.
